Beige, flavorless oatmeal, boring, these were the words that spun circles in my brain as I read White Noise by Don DeLillo. I went in with no expectations having never heard of him or any of his work, though through some research I discovered that he is considered a literary genius of the 20th century. I honestly don’t see it. Nothing could have prepared me for the level of eye droopage I would suffer in reading this book over the course of a week and half. My sole motivation in finishing was really to have it read by the time my book club meeting came around, that was it. Nothing sustained me, nothing about this story kept me going. It was through sheer force of will that I managed to finish at all.